Losing Our Direction
by choshinsung
Summary: I've always been told that life could be compared to a drive on the open roads, but nobody ever told me how easy it was to get lost.
1. Author's Note: Welcome

**Cherry Chapter Directory: **

Chapter Four: _Summer Nights and Video Games_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Though this story will be primarily based around the relationship Rachel and Mike, which is why it was tagged as such, we'd like to warn you beforehand that there will be other characters and character plot lines involved in this story as well. A couple of them will be intertwined with Cherry's, just so it isn't all over the place and just so we don't get murdered for labeling this a Cherry story when really, it's a Cherry and New Directions story.

**UPDATE [10.05.12]:** above is the cherry chapter directory, so if you want to simply skip to Cherry and forget everything else, you're free to do so.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated as well.

We hope you enjoy it.

**- **_aprettyfacelies_ (shumchele on tumblr) and _SlinkyT_ (cherryforthesoul on tumblr).


	2. Teachers

Emma Pillsbury sat in her usual seat for lunch, second table from the coffee machine, with her back to the door, awaiting the man who usually took his place across from her. That was a usual habit and now as she pulled on her plastic gloves she was particularly aware of his absence. Only a few moments later, once she had acquired and laid out her usual lunch spread, water, grapes, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a small apple (which she left in her lunchbox), he came in the room. She turned to see him once he entered her peripherals.

Immediately she noticed the exasperated expression on his face, it was one she had grown accustomed to after Glee club and she also noticed his habit of reaching a hand to his curly hair, before running his fingers through and tugging lightly. She placed her sandwich down on her neatly spread napkin and with a concerned expression attempted to meet his eyes.

"Will, is everything okay?" Emma asked, leaning forward to him slightly, feeling the urge to extend her hand, but there were so many germs that lay on his hand, she was sure of it. He hadn't sanitized since he walked in. So instead she held her hands close to her own body. He shook his head, looking up at her with tired eyes.

"No, it's Glee club, the kids…" He paused and leaned back in his chair, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Are they fighting again?" She asked with sincere empathy, having dealt with numerous accounts of interclub dilemmas in her own office. As well as in the hallways and in the choir room itself.

"No. Well, not yet." He said, although to him, that didn't mean anything because by the next day there would be the typical high school drama. A makeup or breakup or rumor, and then everything would start back over again, turmoil rising within the club. It was something he'd grown accustomed to when working closer to the social lives of his students.

"Then what's the matter?" She asked gently and the small tone of her voice seemed to soothe him a bit, it had always done that. It had a certain sound to it, her voice, and he noticed how her tongue just slightly poked out whenever she made a "th" noise and he smiled the slightest bit.

"I don't know, maybe I'm just over thinking things. I'm just worried about Sectionals." He said and shrugged, trying to push the topic away.

"Already? That's ridiculous, Will," she said, almost appalled that he would be worried about that when the school year had hardly started. They had plenty of time to prepare and recruit, and he knew that she was always a willing partner.

"No," he shook his head and sat up straighter. "You don't understand, Em. Caramel probably already has their choreography. Or they are working late to get it anyway," to that Emma raised an eyebrow and Will challenged her with a serious expression of his own. "They have kids willing to work from sunrise to sunset and we can hardly find enough kids to qualify. If we don't get some dedication out of them, we're not going to get anywhere." He stayed leaned forward at the table, reaching forward to grab a tissue and pick a grape out of her small pile. It was a normal action, one that he'd adjusted to and she very much approved of.

The complete homeliness of that action, as they could have easily been sitting in a shared kitchen, caused her to avert her eyes, she felt a heat on her pale cheeks, and then picked a grape of her own up, which she polished off with her cloth, before she popped it into her mouth.

"Why don't you do one of those competitions that you like so much?" She said, looking up from under her eyelashes at him, to which he broke into a smile. His mouth opened to spoke and he was rudely interrupted, which should have been anticipated when he was anywhere within hearing range of Sue Sylvester.

"Lady," she started nodding towards Emma and Will was almost positive that her voice would cut through glass, or make a baby cry, or some other hideous act. "And man with head covered in enough hair gel to lubricate an elephant's penis," she said, that sly smirk creeping on her thin lips, feeling particularly clever in her insult. Emma's eyes stayed down, while Will gave a challenging look, know for a fact that she had more to say.

"After inviting my block over to my house for a little inspirational pep talk, I noticed that your band of rejects are painfully similar to my neighbor's cat," she said with ease and then grabbed Emma's apple from her lunchbox, to which the red head just shied away from the action, and didn't even bother to cut in. Sue tossed it a few times between her hands as she spoke, as if examining it for quality. "They're both fat, lazy, and screech like banshees stuck in a washing machine."

"Ah, but there is good news ginger and her elfin playmate, one faithful day, that cat and your useless club will get hit by a car." She took a large bite out of the apple, the crunch seemingly like a punch in the face, should they have resorted to physical violence. Usually it was just the mental toying.

"You always have something to say don't you?" Will burst, standing up, the anger that been built up bubbling over and now spilling between his lips. Emma eyes him as he did, the chair he'd been sitting in making a hideous screeching. "Sue, I'm tired of you putting down the students in this school. They are still students, even though they aren't in your 'precious elite,'" he said with a smidge of sarcasm. "What they do still matters to this school." And with that, he left. He didn't wait for her to respond, didn't even have parting words to Emma, he just left the room in a fit of anger.

Sue sat down the apple with a bite out of it, leaving it on the table beside Emma as she also left the teacher's lounge.

Emma packed up her stuff quickly, using her gloved hand to carefully pick up the apple, before placing it in the trash. She held her lunchbox at her side as she walked to Will's classroom and when she arrived he was scribbling furiously on a piece of printer paper.

"Will, it's going to be okay," she assured him, walking on the other side of his desk and looked down at him working on words that were hardly legible. "What are you doing?" She murmured and he started tearing the paper into sections that were almost what you would consider equal.

"We're having a competition, Em, just like you said. They need motivation, we'll give them some motivation," he went over to a cabinet that had props usually used for their Glee performances and grabbed the top hat out, dumping the scraps of paper in. If you asked her if how he referred to "we" she probably would have told you it didn't matter, and then she would be deliberately lying for one of the few times in her adult life. At her questioning look, he shook the hat playfully.

"Names," he stated simply, and she now understood, breaking into a smile. "See you tomorrow at lunch?" He asked as he walked out the door, her falling in step at his side. She nodded and he spoke excitedly.

"Okay, great, I have to get going. I'll talk to you later?" he said, taking a turn in the opposite direction she was going, away from her office, but walking backwards so he could still face her. She smiled and nodded, choosing to stay silent, as he always seemed to put her at a loss for words.

As he turned around she let out a small sigh, hesitating and watching him walk away, before turning and walking with a void at her side where he normally was until she reached her office door.

Emma Pillsbury, though, was not aware that just a few doors down another altering discussion was taking place.


	3. The New Boy In Town Gets To Duet

Blaine fidgeted in his chair excitedly across the table from the Principal of William McKinley High School, Figgins. They had been discussing matters which the male could only wait to share with his boyfriend, who would be the most excited to hear the news, he was sure. Smiles were exchanged and that only urged on Blaine's enthusiasm.

"Mr. Anderson, you may join your fellow…" Principal Figgins hesitated. He was all about relating to the students and in this moment he was picking out a slang term in his mass internal collection of pop culture vocabulary. "Bros," he seemed to have picked carefully but not effectively. It resulted in a less than comfortable exit by Blaine, and just a moment later, after handshakes and finalizations, an exit by his mom, as well. His mom was shorter than him, surprisingly, or not, you might say, and she was precious woman with the best hopes for her son.

"Okay, I hope you have a good…second, first day," she said with a smile. She was proud of her son's decision to stand up for something, even if it meant starting again at a new school. She reached her hands out to straight his bow tie. He pulled back just the slightest bit and she dropped her hands.

"Ma, I'll be fine. Promise." Blaine said genuinely. Little did the mother and son know, just down the hall was one of the reasons Blaine was transferring in the first place. The slender male had seen his boyfriend in the office with his mother before the tardy bell, and decided to stay in the hallway, because any opportunity to see his boyfriend would have to be taken. Kurt continued to idly mess with various objects in his locker.

"Look, I'll have Kurt, and Rachel, and Quinn, and Mercedes, and everybody I told you about." He assured her, causing a smile to turn up on her face. She nodded in approval.

"Alright, if you say so. Have a good day, sweetie," she said and put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down to place a kiss on his forehead. He just laughed softly.

"I will, Ma," he said, the goofy grin leaking into his features. She gave hi and hug and then reluctantly left the school building, glancing over her shoulder to see Blaine standing and watching her every few moments. He gave a small wave and she finally made her way to where Blaine was out of her line of vision.

He sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets before turning on his heels. Immediately his eyes fell on Kurt, legs clad in designer pants extending past the edge of his locker. He walked over to his boyfriend a small bounce in his step.

"Well, speak of the devil," Blaine said with a smirk, leaning against his boyfriend's neighboring locker, foot put up on the lower set.

"Have I ever told you how precious your mom is?" Kurt stated almost dreamily, because he loved the homeliness that she possessed in almost all of her actions, wherever she may be.

"A million times."

Kurt nodded, glad that was clarified before his eyes fell on the picture of Blaine hanging in his locker. Blaine followed his gaze and spotted the letters neatly arranged above it, as well.

"Well, who is that dapper fellow?" Blaine said, pulling a hand out of his picture to reach up and tap the frame. "Looks like somebody has a crush," he commented teasingly. Kurt closed his locker and attempted to hold back the smile that was forming on his lips.

"You're an idiot," he said, eyes wandering across his boyfriend's outfit for just a moment, figuring the less time he was submitted to viewing it, the better the chances were that he wouldn't say anything.  
>"Your idiot, though," Blaine pointed out and leaned forward to give him a short peck on the lips, catching him off guard. When he pulled away and resumed his spot against the locker, Kurt hurriedly looked around.<p>

"Blaine…" he whined in almost a hushed whisper. Anybody could have seen them.

"You better get used to it," Blaine stated confidently.

"Wait…what do you mean?" Kurt had already spent generous amounts of time "getting used" to Blaine's kisses so it was an odd phrase to hear from him.

"What? You think I make my mom drive me all the way across town just to visit my boyfriend's school? Come on, Kurt, I'm all for romanticism, but when it comes to things like this. There's the fact that I was talking to the principal that you have to keep in mind." Kurt blinked away his frustration from moments before, trying to clear his head and decipher what he was hearing.

"Blaine, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, that for the remainder of my high school career, I will be going to William McKinley High School," Kurt opened his mouth to speak and Blaine cut him off out of sheer excitement.

"And before you ask, I've already talked to Mr. Schue. In fact, I should be in glee club right about now." Kurt's heart seemed like it would burst. Not only did he have a wonderful boyfriend, now he would get to sing and dance and do everything he loved with the person he loved.

"Blaine, you didn't have to come here…" Kurt trailed off, not finding much of a reason to push Blaine back to Dalton when an undeniably stronger force was pulling him away.

"It's not just for you, thought that's a big part," he admitted and shrugged. "It's for me, too. When I left my old school, I never really felt like I tried to stand up for myself. The world isn't like Dalton Acadey," he stated, as if that was the simplest concept in the world.

"Blaine…" he said, trying to find some reason in his mind that what Blaine was doing was wrong, but he couldn't. He shook his head, as if to tell him without words that he didn't have to prove himself, but his argument didn't get past the back of his teeth.

"Blaine, nothing. You're late for class and I need to make a good first impression. Only have one of those," he confirmed. "So, I was thinking a big entrance." Kurt's smiled formed, even as hard as it was to believe, he was happy.

"Well, they have already met you," Kurt pointed out.

"They met rival me, Dalton me. Now it's time to meet McKinley me, Kurt's boyfriend me," he said, looking as though he was literally about to start bouncing off the walls.

"Whatever you say," Kurt said with feigned annoyance and turned to head towards the choir room.

"You're just mad because you liked the blazer!" He said to his back with a cocky smirk. Kurt just rolled his eyes and continued walking.

"What? No comment on my attire?" He challenged playfully, to which Kurt stopped but didn't turn around. He sighed heavily and the shook his head, refraining from laughing.

"Wear socks tomorrow."

He finished his trek down the hall and entered the choir room and immediately paved his way to sit beside Mercedes and Quinn, pulling the strap of his messenger bag off of his shoulder and hooking it over his chair. Crossing his legs, he shot a knowing glance in Schuester's direction as the man finished up writing out the word of the week on the white board. Kurt wondered if that board white board had ever been used for anything other than Schuester's messy scribble. He turned his attention back to Mercedes, who was talking the karaoke night she had had with her father and her newest potential mother in law the night before.

The little conversations that had been taking place around the choir room ended once Mr. Schue cleared his throat and turned to face his class, his arms folded and a bright smile set across his lips. The smile made most occupants of the red chairs in front of him weary, as those smiles always seemed to mark the beginning of nothing but a troubling week.

Eyes wandered to the white board, some catches glimpses of the four lettered title to their first assignment of the year.

"Now, first off, I want to welcome you all back to—"

"I've heard this welcome speech five times in the last six hours, and I really don't want to hear it again, so can you get to the point of this meeting?"

Some rolled their eyes at Santana's comment, and others pursed their lips to keep back their chuckles and giggles, but they all agreed with her. The first day back to school had to be one of the most repetitive of the entire year, even with all the new faces and the changed atmosphere, the protocol was almost always exactly the same. It got tiresome after a while.

Will breathed out a tired sigh before shaking his head and complying with Santana's orders. "Right then, before anything else, I want to introduce to you our newest member."

The door slowly opened a few seconds later and all eyes were focused on the shadow that was lingering on the tiled floor before the door shoot open completely, showing a familiar face and a brown bow tie perched upon the boy's neck. He jogged up to Schuester's side after kicking the door closed, as if running up on stage to have an interview with Ellen or Oprah, and clapped his hands together as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.  
>"Hey guys! I'm Blaine, and I'm really, really excited to be here!"<br>There was a heavily awkward pause as the others looked on with furrowed eyebrows and questioning stares, some put off by his chirpy greeting and others wondering how in the world he allowed himself to walk out of the house looking like that. Kurt ran a hand down his face with an amused smile planted upon his lips. So much for a dramatic entrance, he thought.

For the most part, they were trying to figure out where exactly they had seen this guy before, with the exception of Mercedes, Kurt and Quinn who had seen quite a bit of him over the summer, and Santana who simply scoffed as she looked up from her manicured fingernails, immediately regretting bothering herself to look at her newest team mate.  
>His entire outfit appalled her. His introduction appalled her. He appalled her, period. But in a way he reminded her of Brittany. With his outgoing and friendly demeanor and a smile that never seemed to leave his lips. Plus, he had to have a heck of a lot of confidence to be spotting that horrendous get up without even a hint of shame in his eyes. She respected confidence. She decided it was her job to break the silence, before Rachel spoke up the two of them went off being annoyingly chipper together.<p>

"I didn't know five year olds were allowed to frolic around here now."

Not too harsh, not too nice, the comment gained her a few chuckles, and his clueless expression coupled with a wavering smile was priceless. Her job was done, and she returned to examining the work she had done on her nails during English class the period before with a small smirk on her lips.

With the atmosphere lightened somewhat, Will rested a hand on Blaine's shoulder s he continued his introduction. "This is Blaine Anderson, who came to me earlier today and asked to join the club."

"Wait," Quinn interrupted. "Weren't you one of those singers in blazers at Regionals last year?"

"The Dalton Academy Warblers, yes!" Rachel chimed, lifting her head from Finn's shoulder. "You placed forth!"

"And we placed second, but I don't really see what his old choir's placing has anything to do with this."

Rachel folded her arms across her chest as she shot a glare in Mercedes' direction, Mercedes simply giving the girl a small shrug before sitting back and turning her attention back in Blaine and Will's direction.

William adjusted his tie with a small nod. "Uh, yes, that would be correct, Rachel—"

"And you're letting him in?" Scoffing, Puck rolled his eyes as he rested the back of his head against the wall behind him. "It's like Jesse St. Douche all over again, only preppy with more hair gel, and without the leather jackets and the freakish resemblance."

"How is your son doing, Mr. S?" Brittany asked, tilting her head with a glimmer of innocent curiosity in her eyes. The club groaned, save for Santana who chuckled under her breath.

"Burning in hell with all those tacky black shirts and the stupid National's trophy, I hope." Kurt murmured, earning him a light elbowing to his side from Mercedes.

"I agree with Puck," Finn added in. "We can't trust this guy. Once a Wombat, always a Wombat."

"Exactly," Puck reward Finn with a high five before settling back into his seat with a smirk, happy with Blaine's obvious discomfort. Blaine, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, considered trying to correct Finn but decided it would be best if he simply stayed quiet, haven't learned from his mistakes in the past when it came to correcting people who seemed to want nothing to do with you.

Mercedes took in Blaine's shrunken appearance and shook her head, keeping her eyes away from his direction and looking up at Puck as she decided to speak up. "So basically, once you're a good for nothing Lima loser, you're always a good for nothing Lima loser, right, Puck?"

The color from his face seemed to drain immediately, just as his expression sobered and he turned his head to Mercedes who had disgust and disappointment written across her face, even though her lips were curled in the most sickening sweet smile the girl could muster. Puck's eyes drifted off to Quinn and then landed on Mercedes again before he swallowed thickly and turned his head away, remaining quiet as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I'll take full responsibility should he turn out to be trouble, but I can assure you, he won't be." Schuester gestured for Blaine to find himself a seat, and he walked over to Kurt and his camp with caution, taking his place beside Kurt with Mercedes leaning over Kurt's lap to get Blaine's attention and give him a reassuring smile. Kurt carefully took the boy's hand into his own, giving it a light squeeze before releasing it.

"Right, now that we've gotten that out of the way, we can continue with today's meeting." Mr. Schue stepped to the side to allow everyone a better view of the white board, "DUETS" written in the center of it. "We're staring our first week off with a competitive assignment, and by far one of my favorites, duets! Once again, I've brought along a hat which contains all of your names. The boys will be coming up to pick their partners. We'll go in order of sitting position, so Puck, you're up first."

Puck got out of his seat, unnecessarily shoving his way between Rachel and Finn's chairs as he made his way over to the top hat Mr. Schue had put on top of Brad's piano. He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt before digging his hand into the hat and fishing around for a name, flicking the paper once he pulled it out and reading the name on it. He internally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Artie."

Finn got out of his seat next and his hand lingered within the hat a little longer before he pulled his hand out and read over the paper, crumpling it up when he saw his own name and digging again, this time glancing up at his peers before looking at the paper in his hand.

"Tina." He announced with a grin as he made his way back to his seat. Tina subtly fist pumped the air, causing Mike to chuckle and squeeze her shoulder lightly. Finn tilted his head back to get a better look at her, draping his arm around Rachel's chair, an excited gleam in his eyes. "We're totally playing Guitar Hero before we practice. I demand a rematch."

She simply laughed, the aspect of him beating her at Guitar Hero – after the humiliating defeat she served him in the summer when the club was hanging out at the Puckerman household, humoring her greatly.

"Prepare to get your ass kicked, Hudson."

Mike followed, and picked Santana out of the hat, much to the relief of the rest of the boys that had yet to get themselves a partner. Matt got himself paired up with Rachel (everyone sent him pitying looks as he made his way back to his seat, Rachel still fuming that she hadn't been paired up with someone she was positive had shared more chemistry with; in other words, Finn), Kurt was with Brittany and Blaine snagged himself Quinn Fabray. Quinn couldn't particularly say she hated her partner, and at least Blaine was somewhat familiar with her, so neither could really complain.

Mercedes folded her arms over her cross, running her tongue over her lips. "So, me and my chocolate thunder are going this alone?" Schuester immediately tried to formulate a solution, or remember the one he had thought up when he was writing down their names during his free period, and Mercedes had a hunch she would end up his partner in the end of it, and there was absolutely no way she was going to do that to herself. "It's alright, I'm cool with it." She would focus on the upsides of this, like her being able to work at her own time and not be disturbed or irritated by a pest of a partner. Her eyes glanced at Matt as the corners of her lips turned downwards. Poor guy.

After Blaine got himself back into his seat and Will had seemed to calm down from his minor panicked frenzy, the occupants of the chairs around Rachel groaned and rolled their eyes as they noticed her hand shooting into the air. She didn't bother to wait for Schuester's verbal permission to speak.

"This is a competition within the club, am I right?"

"Yes, Rachel."

"And competitions usually result in the winner getting an award, correct?"

"Correct."

"What exactly it is that we're winning?"

This caught the rest of the club's attention, and all eyes were on Mr. Schuester, minds racing with possibilities and ideas as to what the prize could be. It comes to his mind that he hadn't actually thought this entire project through, not that he had that much time to anyway. But he wasn't about to make them promises he wouldn't be able to keep.

"The feeling of knowing that you bested the rest of the club for a week?"

Most of the club went back to slumping in their seats, only half paying attention to what the man in front of them was saying. Their bubbles of excitement deflated. Rachel was one of the few (Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn being the others) that thought the award was music to their ears.

"Is it possible that I could get that in the form of a trophy for my trophy cabinet?"

"Who says you're winning this thing, dwarf?" Santana asked, her smirk and slight annoyance oozing into her words. Will smiled at this, for it showed that the project hopefully wouldn't be a mess of precious time. He got the top hat off of the piano and walked over to the white board, dismissing them all with words of luck.


	4. Summer Nights and Video Games

"Rachel," Mike called to her as he pulled his bag up off the tiled floor. Rachel – purposefully – hadn't heard and her pace only sped up as she tried to get out of the choir room as fast as she could, without running or bouncing forward like she had so greatly desired to.

She knew that her futile attempts at trying to run away from him weren't going to work forever. She lucked out in the morning in the parking lot, when Finn had swooped in and offered to pull her bag for her as he told her about all the horrible and brain damaging experience he went through the night before involving the living room couch, his step brother and his step brother's boyfriend. Lunch period was an even closer call. Mike had gotten as close as sitting down next to her before Brittany came along and dragged him to where the cheerleaders were, asking if he'd be so kind to show them a few of his signature dance moves. By the time Tina had gotten up from her seat to give the pom-pom carrying students a piece of her mind, Rachel had managed to get out of the cafeteria undetected.

The hallway was virtually empty, and her locker was around the next corner. His footsteps seemed to get louder and louder with each passing second and for a moment, she was tempted to sprint around the school to get to the exit and to her car as fast as she possibly could. But as much as she would have liked them too, things didn't always work out the way Rachel wanted them to. This was one of those times.

"Rachel." He said again, his voice almost pleading.

She would have continued to ignore him had his hand not made its way onto her shoulder. She stopped in her tracks, the grip she had on the file in her arms tightening as her entire body tensed.

* * *

><p><em>It was warm outside, that Friday night, but the moon was a gorgeous shade of grayish blue and the stars littering the night sky were calling out to her. Stumbling out of the front door of Puck's home, Rachel found her feet leading her to the porch steps. She sat her wine cooler down beside her before taking a seat herself. Her body drank in the light breeze as her hair tickled the back of her neck, and she released a sigh of unadulterated bliss.<em>

_In that moment it didn't matter that Finn had given her a kiss on the cheek and practically ditched her for the rest of the night, only waving over at her if their eyes met. _

_It didn't matter that Puck had been trying to wedge her off himself for the entire night. 'Don't get me wrong, Berry, I love the attention, but I'm trying to host a kick-ass party here and you're kind of throwing me off my game. Maybe you can glue yourself to me later, princess.' _

_It didn't matter that the skirt of her dress had been torn while she was reaching for a jar of jellybeans when she was going through the cabinets of the Puckerman kitchen. It didn't even matter that she had no idea how it happened, and it was probably never going to look the same again, and that the dress was one of her absolute favorites. _

_None of it mattered because she was being one with nature and her fellow stars above. _  
><em>And the alcohol running through her system tended to make her mellow when she had no way to burn off her energy. <em>

_It only lasted for a moment, though. _

_Her hands cupped over her knee caps and she bent over with a heavy sigh, her hair curtaining her face. She wasn't going to cry, there was no real need for that. She and Finn were fine, had been for a good four months. It was one stupid party, with a group of people they both called friends. If anything, she should have been scolding herself for wanting to spend more time with him when he had other people to pay attention to. But then she'd see Kurt and the boy that didn't even go to McKinley nuzzling their noses together in the corner, and her eyes would sometimes flash over Santana crying over the fact that Brittany hadn't been tearing her clothes off fast enough, and then her eyes would finally settle on Mike and Tina dancing like idiots in the middle of all the chaos, singing the song playing from Puck's playlist completely off-key and not giving a damn about it. _

_Rachel knew it wasn't too much to ask for her and Finn to do the same, or to do anything, really, together for a change. They hadn't seen each other in ten days. Ten days was a long time span for no physical contact and she had her doubts that Puck would spend eight of those ten days with Finn playing a video game of some sort, like Finn had told her whenever he'd reject the invitations to the Berry household. The mohawked boy did have a little sister he had to take care of, and his mother gave herself a little time off during the summer meaning Puck would have to babysit and help around the house quite a bit more than he normally would. She knows this because he called her, in the third week of their vacation, begging her to save him because his sister was pelting him with really hard skinned dolls and it hurt like absolute hell. _

_Going to a party together after ten days physically apart seemed like a great idea. The perfect way to forget her worries and have Finn reassure her that they were perfectly okay, and that he still loved her as much as he did that night at Nationals the year before, and that she was just going through one of her it's-the-worst-case-scenario-and-I'm-going-to-lose-everything stages in their relationship._

_The party wasn't supposed to make her feel worse. _

_"Find h-eeer." She heard someone slur behind her before the front door was slammed closed, and she turned her head to see Mike staggering up to her._  
><em>He said nothing, and neither did she. She had a theory that he would speak up first if he wanted conversation and if you didn't have something important to say, you shouldn't say anything at all. It was a little unnerving having him stare at you with that questioning look on his face as you went on and on about basically nothing at all just to fill up the inevitable awkward silence that would follow if you didn't keep talking or if someone else didn't show up. She recalls getting that look more than a few times before the summer, when she would run into him at the grocery store or would happen to be walking home using the same path that he was. <em>

_She still isn't sure if he found her stories about her first two ballet recitals entertaining or not. _

_"Hey—" he pauses, a hand moving up to his mouth to muffle his relatively quiet burp. "Rachel." _

_She giggles. _

_Her hands tingle. _

_And he's sitting down beside her. _

_She can't help but notice the muscles on his arms. His clavicles are also beginning to look incredibly lick-able. _

_She chooses to simply focus on his arms, and his eyes; his really, really chocolaty, big brown eyes. _

_"Who'd you lose?" _

_"Hm?"_

_The crinkle of confusion between his furrowed eyebrows steals her attention for a second or two. Probably five, she guesses. _

_"You asked someone to find her, who's 'Her'?"_

_The little 'o' of realization his lips form is kind of really cute._

_"Red." _

_"Red?"_

_"Puck's pillow. I put her down for like, two seconds, and she just vanished into nothingness. Like those really rude Pokémon that won't let you catch 'em. I haven't come across one before, but I'm pretty sure they exist. Pokémon are kind of like people, so there as to be at least one naturally annoying, rude, disrespectful one somewhere."_

_"I agree."_

_She had an extremely vague idea of what he just said. The only thing she knows about video games is that they're violent, because Finn's always going on about killing one solider or this enemy or that zombie. And the only cartoon programs she knows are the Powerpuff Girls, Kim Possible and a wide variety of superhero focused shows that she learned about from Finn._

_She still believes Pokémon has something to do with poking, she just doesn't know what's being poked._

_They sit there, on the first porch step, under the starlight, with the faint sound of a Nicki Minja song playing in the background. Her body can't help but shift closer to him and when she wraps her arms around his waist, she's glad she didn't choose to stay inside and force herself to suffer further. When his arm drapes over her shoulder, the corners of her lips curl into a small smile. _

_The silence is refreshing, rejuvenating and relaxing. When his other arm decides to wind its way around her waist, she allows herself to close her eyes and sink into his embrace and just enjoy it._

_It's not Finn, or Noah, or even the long lost memory of Jesse, but it'll do._

* * *

><p>She decides a lie would be best in this situation. "If you would please excuse me, Michael, I have an urgent appointment I need to get to."<br>She just wants his hand to leave her shoulder, because the memory terrifies her but more than anything, it makes her feel sick and dirty. She makes a weak attempt at shrugging it off, and he gets the message and allows his hand to fall back to his side. She thinks he's going to give up the chase and simply let her be.

He doesn't.

"I'll walk you out while we talk—"

Cold and stone-like, that's her best bet in this situation. She takes these words of advice and uses them in practice.

"There's nothing to talk about."

They turn the corner and she forgets to go to her locker and get out the books she'll need for her homework assignments, still stuck on wondering whether or not running would be a good ide, still trying to walk away from him, still having him follow her.

She would have been impressed by his persistence, had she not been so annoyed.

"You can't just pretend nothing happened."

"Yes I can, because nothing happened."

With those words she turned on her heel and faced him head-on for the first time since that night, her arms folded tightly over her pink colored file with her jaw clenched.

"It was a mistake, Michael," she spits out. Her words taste like metal on her tongue. "Everything about that was a drunken mistake and I will not have you trying to morph this into something bigger than it actually is. I don't know what you think you'll gain by trying to shove this down my throat for the rest of eternity but I am asking you politely to stop right this instant, because frankly, you're embarrassing yourself by getting worked up over such a trivial matter."

His shoulders slumped and his lips parted, aching to ask so many questions and say so many things but being unable to because they had found a way to dry up. An incredibly pained expression painted his features and nothing but disbelief glowed in his eyes.

"Now, if you'll excuse me."

Flashing him a pleasant smile, she continued her journey to the exit of the school building, efficiently leaving him in the middle of the hall, her words rotating in his mind and repeating like a sickening mantra that made him feel ill.

* * *

><p><em>"Have I ever told you how great you are?" She asks, randomly. This brings his attention to the hand that had managed to tangle itself up in the material of his black shirt, currently tugging it up ever-so-slightly.<em>

_He tilts his head down to look at her, his bottom lip pouted in concentration as he tries to recall ever hearing those words coming out of anyone's mouth in direction to him before. He can't seem to remember it happening. Unsure of whether or not his mouth is going to betray him and ruin whatever this moment was by questioning her on why one of his buttons was undone, he only shakes his head 'no'._

_She's warm, pleasantly warm, like a compliment to the summer evening, and her hair smells like apples with the slightest hint of lavender, and her skin is soft and the way her petite body feels in his arms is unbelievable._

_And then, all of a sudden, her lips are softer than her skin and her hands have decided to tangle themselves up in his hair and her body is so close to his own that the only heat he feels is radiating off of her and he can't help but clutch onto her and pull her in more because the entire thing is making his head spin and his hormones crazy and before he knows it, he's craving for more._

_A needy, greedy, desperate whimper slips past his lips and the party's over._

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_She repeats those words in a panicked state as she removes herself from him and gets back onto her feet, dusting off the back of her skirt before rushing back inside the house without so much as a glance over her shoulder, knocking her abandoned wine cooler down in the process._

_He doesn't make much of an effort to show that he wasn't okay with that. Even with a slightly more sobered mind to back him up, he still wants her to come back._

_She does return, fifteen minutes later, her limbs hooked securely around Finn's body as he kept her in place on his back and walked over to his car, casually bidding Mike farewell on his way._

_He notices her face buried against her boyfriend's neck, hiding her eyes from his gaze._

* * *

><p>He doesn't know why he didn't chase after her then.<p>

It's probably why he wasn't chasing after her now.

* * *

><p>Matt Rutherford was a cheater. There was no doubt whatsoever about that. This must be distinctly understood. Ever since he and Mike started playing video games together, that was an easily recognizable fact. While sitting side by side on a couch, crouched over controllers, elbows were always bumping and feet would be kicking. Mike had learned to defend himself, if an elbow went up on Matt's side, he threw one up as well. He wanted to try and kick his leg? A bump with the shoulder would be a sufficient rebuttal. His favorite trick was what they both dubbed, "The Reach and Mash" where you reach blindly across to the other man's controllers and mash buttons like there's no tomorrow. Not only did he use physical attacks, mental were probably his favorite.<p>

His intensity didn't depend on the game either. They could be playing Scrabble and Matt would be trying to convince Mike to play the wrong words. Not that they ever did play Scrabble, first person shooters were more their genre. Along with any of the Mario games, Portal, Call of Duty, Just Dance, okay, really anything but Scrabble. And not to mention the fact that he was a sore loser, and would often bet a couple bucks on a game just for the hell of it.

Today the wager was ten bucks. The total win as sitting on the glass coffee table in front of them, guaranteed to go to the winner of whatever they decided to compete in.

After debating and internal strategies on both their parts, or lack of it on Mike's, the game of choice was Mario Kart and although that was one of Mike's favorites games, along with one of the ones they had developed the most skill at Matt didn't even have to attempt to throw his friend off his game. Mike's driving was swerving more than usual and he seemed to keep attempting turns at impossible times, hitting things or spinning out. After Mike got hit by a blue shell for about the fifth time Matt paused the game, turning to his friend.

"What's up with you today, man? You're like in second to last place." Matt commented. Mike grimaced and sat up straight, setting his controller on his knee and stretching his arms over his head and then out in front of him. He almost decided to snatch the ten dollars sitting on the table in front of them before realizing that would be a direct violation of the bro code, so he pulled his hands back to pick up his controller.

"Peach must have bulked up over the summer," he deadpanned and reached over to Matt's controller, pressing play before he could even respond. Mike turned a sharp corner, now passing Matt's paused character, as he didn't even attempt to play. He watched his friend's eyebrows furrow once more in concentration, unfaltering focus, like he hadn't even noticed that anything was different than when they were playing moments before.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Mike wasn't usually on for snippy remarks unless it regarded their attempts at trash talk. Those normally weren't so intimidating either, so the fact that Mike showed any kind of bitterness was a new thing to him. Well, not necessarily new as Mike was really good at coming up with sarcastic remarks to some of Matt's antics. Sometimes. Only sometimes.

"Dude," He said with an exaggerated tone, like the word itself just annoyed him. "Something must be wrong with you. I'm killing you here." He finished flatly, his eyes not straying from the flickering screen that flooded his mind with bright colors and distracting animations. Anything to keep his thoughts from straying to what was really bothering him.

"Not even playing," Matt noted and tossed his controls at Mike's feet that were about shoulder length apart and his elbows rested on his knees. His eyes flashed down to it for just a moment before shrugging, even if Matt wasn't playing, he was still playing, he didn't need to talk about anything now. At least not with him.

"Well, you should or else you're going to be paying for my combo meal at Taco Bell," Mike replied once more and it interested Matt as to how Mike could still keep playing the game when he was talking to him, as if he weren't really focused on either thing and maybe something in the middle.

"Not like I haven't before," he said pointedly and then continued with his actual concern. "Come on, man. Is it Tina?" He asked and Mike just gritted his teeth. Of course it wasn't Tina, Tina and his relationship was stable at the moment except there was this little intruding force in his brain. Of course, she was actually little and it was like a nagging, just a pestering like that person that stands with their finger next to your face and continually repeats, "I'm not touching you." Like that, but worse because others couldn't see, and he wouldn't let them see, why he was frustrated.

"No, it's nothing. Just pick up the controller and drive your kart before I lap you," he said still watching as the scenery flew past the character he was playing. "I mean, I like beating you man, but humiliating is completely different." Matt rolled his eyes and Mike kicked the small plastic controller in his direction and he scooped it up.

"Don't think I'm done. Just because you're acting like a douche bag, doesn't mean I'm going to let this go," Matt said, kicking up the gas on his kart, having no trouble maneuvering seeing as most of the rest of the competitors were far ahead of him, including Mike.

"Not a douche bag," Mike replied simply. "Just a…" He dragged out the one letter word, swerving the kart drastically. "Hold on…wait for it…" He said and Matt rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was coming and yet he still continued to drive forward, with the hope that maybe, with some luck Mike would crash before the finish line.

"Winner!" Mike grinned and tossed the controller on to the couch beside him and stood up, taking the ten bucks on the table with him. "Come on, man. Taco Bell's on me." He said grabbing his keys off the counter as he walked to the door, gesturing for Matt to follow.

As much as Mike probably didn't want Matt to figure out what kept him occupied, he probably would. He usually did.


	5. The Old Girl In Town

**Author's Note:** Hello there, for all of you that would like a hand in deciding what it is you get out of this story, would you like a little _more_ Cherry or are you okay with everything being mostly evenly split across the board? Right now, we've reached the half (or was it quarter?) way mark, and new chapters have to be written up (we were sure if people would be interested in this story at first, but I'm pretty happy with the response), so we need to know what to keep in and what to push further back. Feedback on this would be greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading~! - **aprettyfacelies.**

* * *

><p>Quinn's eyes, full of perceptual depth, measured the new guy's characteristics in comparison to the rest of her friends and exes. Overall, he was attractive. His bright eyes seemed to lure her in, which was cliché enough if she didn't already believe that he beat out his competitors in a matter of seconds. The few times his eyes flicked to her direction as he sang, she felt the corners of her lips turn up in a small smile, one that didn't show her other side. It was an innocent smile, one of stranger seeing somebody for the first time.<p>

Although she noticed his eyes glanced around the room equally, even to her friend. Somebody she might even consider her best friend. That small action made her wonder, as this boy had true potential, she could hear it in his voice. She also believed, not only would he excel in the choir room, he would be able to launch them forward in the school hierarchy, which seemed to be her main focus as of late.

She pursed her lips slightly as he strummed the guitar with ease, like he'd been doing that all his life. And who knows, maybe he had, even Mike admitted to dancing alone in his room before joining New Directions. His voice was smooth and fun at the same time, the song being catchy already, him just aiding in its presentation.

She pushed her feathered hair back from her eyes and glanced over to Mercedes, who also held a smile, but hers was much brighter and more energetic. She, as well as the rest of the Glee club, knew that this would be Mercedes' partner for the assignment. There was no questioning it, she needed one, and he showed up.

Such a damn odd pairing and damn his blonde hair and damn his toned arms.

The song ended and Quinn blinked herself out of her daze while claps sounded through the choir room, her own hands having lifted of their own accord and copying everybody else's actions. Mr. Schue, in appreciation, did his signature slow clap as he meandered to the front of the room and everybody else's hands fell back to their laps.

"Very nice, Samuel," he said and Quinn noticed the boy wince at the formal version of his name. That always came with names of that sort.

"Sam," the blonde corrected and his speaking voice sounded just as fluid and lithe as his singing voice.

"Right, of course, Sam," Mr. Schue nodded and then clapped him on the back before doing the inevitable action of implying he was in the Glee club, by pairing him with his duet partner.

"We're in the middle of a…" and you could see his words hesitate for a moment, trying to explain it to him in a way that he would understand. To outsiders, it was hard to understand the concept of battling within the cohesive group, but after the first round, it made sense.

"Project," He simplified. "Your partner is going to be one of our strongest vocalists, Mercedes Jones," he gestured for her to stand up and with beaming confidence and a bright persona. Quinn could practically hear Rachel's snaky remark of how she was indeed the strongest vocalist. That's what happened when you spent too much time around Berry. Luckily she was too busy murmuring to Matt about their duet to be concerned with the introduction of the new mediocre Glee club addition.

Same seemed taken aback by Mercedes' immediate reaction. Then, Quinn noticed the split second act that numerous guys had attempted in her presence; a swift flicker of the eyes over their potential target. She had been used to those eyes on her, but not nearly as often lately.

He was checking Mercedes out.

Quinn immediately felt that ache that she hadn't acquired since she saw Puck chatting ups girls in the hall. And though she was used to, she no longer felt that way towards Finn's interactions with Rachel.

She was…jealous.

The bell ran and people were filing our, Mercedes and Sam still talking idly about a topic she would rather not linger on. Not because it wasn't interesting, she enjoyed Mercedes' company; she just wanted them separated as soon as possible.

Mercedes arm looped through Sam's, which stiffened for only half a second before he accepted the warm gesture that wasn't at all overbearing. Okay, maybe Quinn was just a little bitter.

Quinn walked out the door once all of her peers had departed and she went to her locker, head ducked down as to avoid contact with people who didn't really enjoy her presence. She spun the lock and her eyes couldn't help but flick over to the newly acquainted friends. She let out a heavy sigh and shoved her books in before checking herself in the mirror connected to her locker door by a magnet. She pursed her lips together for half a second when meeting the reflection that didn't smile back as often as she used to.

Quinn turned the corners of her lips up into a forced smile, but one that could pass for now, and then closed her locker, immediately heading over to Mercedes, her dress swishing as her hips swayed with each step.

She then tapped Mercedes on the arm, only seeing her mouth moving and not paying much attention to if their conversation had held much substance.

"Hey, Mercy, can I talk to you for a minute?" She asked with her feigned happiness, her eyes straying to the taller blonder male and noticing his bright eyes as they met hers.

"Sure, Q," Mercedes agreed, unaware of Quinn's intentions and turned to Sam with her more genuine warmth. "I'll see you at lunch, right?" Sam smiled that smiled Quinn knew already had a permanent place in her memory. The male nodded and then spoke once more.

"Spanish teacher's office is this way, right?" He asked and pointed down the hall and that goofy smile seemed to melt the cold pericardium Quinn had grown to develop during her period of lower confidence. Mercedes let out an uncharacteristic laugh, one mostly reserved for the likes of Quinn or Kurt, and pointed down the opposite direction of the hall.

"Keep walking until it dead ends," she instructed and Sam nodded, as he began walking away in that direction, still facing her as to catch her directions. "Then, take a left and Mr. Schue should have gotten to his office by now." She waved shortly before turning her focus back to her friend, who spoke immediately.

"So, have any duet songs in mind?" Quinn asked, not even sure why the words blurted out and she wish she would have thought of a different topic to go on about.

"Well, I just met my partner," Mercedes stated matter-of-factly with a warm smile still on her face.

"You two seem to have clicked, so I only assumed you would have touched on the topic. The walk from the choir room to your locker is long enough for it. I'm sure you'll find one," she attempted to cover up and reassure simultaneously.

"Well, I guess we'll see what happens, then," she shrugged and Quinn sighed with a small smile, trying to keep a calm attitude.

"Just promise not to kill the boy once you two are alone?" Quinn forced out the playful words.

Mercedes could only roll her eyes at the girl beside her, her eyes lingering down the hall at styled head of blonde, before nodding in the direction of the exit to get Quinn's feet moving so they wouldn't be late getting home. "Wouldn't dare," she replied almost bitterly. "I don't want the football team giving me one of their complimentary slushy facials."

The confused look Quinn gave her prompted Mercedes to explain.

"Didn't Britt and San tell you? Sam is apparently the newest and hottest thing on the football team right now. San says he's giving Finn a run for his money." Mercedes said, her brightness seeming to return in moments.

"Football team, huh?" Quinn said her tone being more of being impressed, rather than actual questioning.

Quinn pursed her lips together to keep herself from smiling too wide as she hooked her arm around Mercedes and proceeded to the parking lot.

_Perfect._

Glee club for Quinn recently had included the usual factors: people already tugging over undecided solos for Sectionals, Rachel being…well, Rachel, singing from all corners of the choir room and a less than mediocre rehearsal time for her. Though she enjoyed the time to express feelings and be open, she was also immensely frustrated with the lack of cooperation of the group and the ultimate breakdown of its team nature. She wants to blame summer, but she realizes none of them were really as close as she had thought. It was the beginning of the year and her mother had been pouring alcohol down her throat like there was no tomorrow and everything suddenly lacked the comforting warmth that used to aid her during times of conflict. Mostly the pregnancy and sequential consequences of said event.

She guesses this also has to do with Puck showing up at her doorstep one afternoon and telling her he was sick of her not trusting him with things, particularly them as a whole, and then breaking up with her when she argued with his point even though he was right. She tried not to mull over it, though, and convinces herself it was for the better. She felt so vulnerable (and in love) around him, so weak (at the knees) and unflatteringly clammy whenever he'd send a smile her way. It reminded her too much of her year with Finn, and that didn't turn out well. She was ultimately saving herself from further humiliation and having to go through the pain of heartbreak again, so fuck Puckerman if he didn't want to stick around.

Thankfully Mercedes was there, she had been for a while. Even so, it seemed like there was a tension there that was very apparent, like giant elephant in the room that neither wanted to acknowledge, because neither was going to admit things were changing. As well as her friend, the rest of the Glee club seemed to be slowly deteriorating, becoming less and less of a team with every rehearsal. She missed being able to sing a song and an entire group of people would understand how she felt. They tried, they really did, but it just wasn't the same.

She gathered her books and clutched them tight to her chest, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders that were clad with a small cardigan while her fringe skimmed her brow bone. She walked tight against the walls, less likely to get pushed, or noticed, there. In route to her next class she walked past the bulletin board, a sheet of paper catching her eye, bright and colorful at in the top corner was a gold star. It was the Glee Club signup sheet Rachel had designed, screaming for attention.

Two people had signed up.

And that's only if you're counting:

Hugh G. Rection,

And a poorly drawn penis.

Meaning, once again, nobody cared about the Glee club. When had anybody ever cared? It had been reduced to the option of either swaying on the left or right of the soloist, be that Berry or Finn. She raised an eyebrow, an identifying trait of hers, and her eyes scanned the bulletin board. She caught sight of another list, that had much more attention, which seemed was on the other end of the board and as she tilted her head slightly to examine it, she realized why. It was for the Cheerio's tryouts. She understood exactly why.

If you were a freshman, transfer, or foreign exchange student, you either wanted a Cheerio or wanted to be a Cheerio.

Quinn let out a heavy sigh, tucking her hair behind her ear as she saw the multiple sheets tacked on to the page, as the list had extended past the minimal amount of paper Coach Sylvester had the energy to put out. It was at this moment that Quinn realized there was a big difference between New Directions and the Cheerios, the difference between her second family and her first.

One accepted everybody and attempted to treat them fairly, which ultimately failed when she thought about it. While the other, though not as accepting, was a tighter knit group of people who actually had a chance to have their talents displayed and appreciated, not to mention success that was actually recognized by the school and…football players. Not shoved into a box and pushed in the corner to collect dust. If you worked hard enough, you were rewarded, and if you hadn't, there was a place at the bottom of the pyramid waiting for you.  
>And after someone had spent an hour stepping on your back and dirtying your uniform, they'd step off of you and offer you a brief smile before helping you up and leaving you as is.<p>

Quinn pursed her lips in thought, eyebrows knitting together and it was one of those light bulb moments. One of those moment where she would have had a bright yellow light flashing above her head had she been a cartoon character. She went straight to the restroom, dropping her things by the sink, placing one hand on each side of the porcelain.

"Come on, Quinn, think about when you've been that happiest," she spoke softly to herself, remembering freshman year with Finn, captain of the Cheerios and…Being popular girl extraordinaire.

There were times in between then and now that were good, that mostly related to that, but she recalled that ultimate bliss of walking down the halls and knowing people were looking at you, not debating whether you were going to get a green or a purple slushie that day.

She remembered what it felt like to be a leader, to be wanted and needed as a part of a group and not seen as somebody who could be replaced. She remember being in control of something in her life when everything around her was crumbling to pieces. The security of knowing the pyramid wouldn't stack if a lying brick had been lost. If New Directions lost a member, they just struggled to replace them with whoever could totter from one foot to another. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, and made up her mind.

She bent down, digging through her bag and found small thin rubber band. Using her nimble, practiced fingers to run through her hair, she pulled it all back into a high ponytail. She smiled at her reflection, suddenly recognizing who this person was again.

She picked up her bag, heading straight for the office of the only person she knew that could help her at this moment.

Not even knocking, she opened the door, confidence in her actions and laced in with each word.

"Coach Sylvester, we need to talk."


End file.
